Curvy Girls Can’t Date Soldiers by Kelsie Stelting
Fifty-Nine
Nadira
The strokeof his thumb was sending the butterflies in my stomach wild, not to mention the way he smiled at me like I was the beautiful girl I’d always dreamed of being. I tried to keep my eyes on the road ahead of us, but my gaze kept sneaking over to Apollo.
His profile was just as beautiful as seeing him straight on, with his angular nose, full lips, and the chiseled edges of his jaw.
He glanced my way, catching me staring, but only smiled slightly and squeezed my hand.
Was this what dating felt like? Was this what being in love did to people? It was like the first time I’d jumped from a high dive, standing on the edge of the board, both nervous and excited, knowing once I jumped, I could never go back.
The farther we drove, the closer we got to Seaton, and I wondered where he could be taking me. I only knew of one restaurant there, Seaton Bakery. I loved the place, but as someone from out of town, he’d probably never heard of it.
But the roads became familiar, and soon we pulled into the bakery’s parking lot.
My mouth fell open. “No way.”
“What?” he asked nervously. “You don’t like this place?”
“Are you kidding?” I said. “I love it!” I reached for my door, but he held on to my hand.
“Let me get it.”
“You don’t have to. My dad isn’t watching anymore.”
His lips quirked into a crooked smile. “Just one of the benefits of dating a southern boy.” He let go of my hand and got out of the car, and man, if I had trouble not staring before...
The way Apollo walked was full of purpose and power. Even under the button up and white T-shirt, I could see the flow of his muscles. The strength of his stance.
Too soon, he reached my door and opened it. (I could have watched him walk all day.) Taking my hand, he helped me out of the car and didn’t let go even as we walked into the bakery. But instead of going toward the counter where we were supposed to order, he walked toward the dining area.
“Wait,” I said, tugging him gently toward the cash register. “They don’t have servers here.”
With a coy smile, he shook his head. “I have something better planned.”
It was then I saw the corner booth, covered in a white tablecloth, a vase of flowers and a flickering candle on top. It was so different from the rest of the casual seating, but so special I covered my heart with my hand. “This is for me?”
He nodded, leading me that way. “Of course.”
I slid into a chair, and he sat across from me. Thank goodness, because this way I had a better view of his gorgeous face without twisting my neck throughout dinner.
“How are we going to order though?” I asked.
He grinned and lifted his chin toward the guy in an apron walking toward us. I recognized him as Gayle’s husband. But he always stayed in the kitchen, hardly ever handling customers. Gayle did that. How had Apollo gotten him out of the kitchen?
“Hi, you two,” he said, grinning. “What can I get you?”
Apollo smiled back and gave him his order. I watched the interaction, in awe. What had he done to convince them to do all of this? I needed answers. But I wouldn’t get them until I ordered, so I got my usual and sat back.
“I’m impressed,” I said.
For the first time, I noticed a dimple in Apollo’s right cheek. It was shallow, but there, and oh-so endearing. “What can I say?” he said. “I’ve got friends in low places.”
“Quoting country songs?” I teased. “How very Texan of you.”
“It comes out from time to time.” He leaned in, elbows on the table, and despite having a dozen people in the bakery, it felt like we were the only two there in our own special world. (Now, that was an aeronautical phenomenon that should be studied.)
I put my hand above my eyes, pretending to look for something.
“What?” Apollo asked.
“Oh, you know, just looking for the sky-writing plane or a dozen roses to appear out of thin air. You know, the usual from Mr. Perfect.”
He chuckled. “I don’t want to be Mr. Perfect.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Why not?”
He reached across the table and took my hands. “I just want to be Mr. Good Enough for a girl like you.”
